


Terror Kink Meme Prompts

by theterroratemylife



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theterroratemylife/pseuds/theterroratemylife
Summary: A collection of kink meme chatfic





	Terror Kink Meme Prompts

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: canon, gangbang, post 1x08

_**Long Day's Haul** _

**scurvytrain** : ok though. Hickey setting it up as a loyalty test. Like he did with neptune. And, well, eating people.

**terrabite** : I could see that. Especially since Goodsir isn’t really making any active attempt to undermine Hickey’s leadership or vye for that role – that aspect might make it easier for them, since he’s not been campaigning for their loyalty 

**scurvytrain** : Maybe it inadvertently It starts off with Hodgson, something as simple has Goodsir treating Hodgson for something, and Hodgson, overwhelmed with fear and exhaustion kissing him. Goodsir letting it happen before gently disengaging, telling him to get some rest. They have to haul tomorrow. 

**scurvytrain** : Hickey having started to enter the tent but stopping himself 

**terrabite** : maybe it starts an idea ticking along for Hickey? or is he just offended by Hodgson expressing interest in Goodsir? 

(this makes a nice parallel to him witnessing Goodsir and Silna in the provisions line) 

**scurvytrain** : Seeing the gentle way Goodsir disengages — none of shock or anger. Just weary quiet. 

Hickey letting Hodgson leave, giving it a moment and then coming into the tent after, ostensibly asks on the status of the men

That little tent, Hickey sitting across from Goodsir on his cot. Their knees almost interlocked. 

Goodsir’s toneless status report: who can haul, who won’t be able to haul much longer 

“And what of you, doctor? How are you faring?” And Hickey resting a hand on Goodsir’s knee. 

Even under layers of fabric to combat the cold, can feel the sharp contours of someone settled into hunger. 

Goodsir’s gaze is steady on Hickey, that half lid unflinching weighted stare. None of that compassion he saved for Hodgson. 

Goodsir never seems as grateful as he could be, considering the fate Hickey has spared him from. Knows enough of the other camp from his spies to know sickness has spread quickly.

“Is there anything else, Mr. Hickey?” Goodsir’s clipped, tired voice. Hickey resting his hand on Goodsir’s other knee. “And what of crew morale?” Hickey asking, careful. 

Goodsir seems to go more still at that, if possible.

Eventually kissing Goodsir in the same manner Hodgson did – Goodsir’s first, real, hard shove that sends Hickey back on his heels. “Don’t touch me.” Goodsir doesn’t wipe his mouth, has contempt for him, but not fear. Hickey seeking to change that.

I think on some level Hickey would view Goodsir’s willingness to let Hodgson kiss him the same way Hickey views his own willingness to engage in sex to cement loyalty. That Goodsir wouldn’t react the way say, someone like Irving would, I think he reads that lack of reaction as its own, thoughtful action.

Goodsir would be the biggest threat, loyalty wise, because he only brings relief to people in pain.

Hickey co-opting that for himself, with Goodsir as vessel. Knowing Goodsir is too fucking tired to fight back.

**terrabite** : And I think Goodsir being the biggest threat to his leadership is probably the most important factor; his mere presence (and refusal to engage in cannibalism) reminds the men there is a different way. He’s the only one besides Hodgson with rank, but he carries added moral authority

If he can’t have Goodsir’s own loyalty, he can steal what he signifies to the men

I could also see him using Goodsir’s refusal to engage as an inciting factor – does he think he’s *better* than us? Above us? Hickey gets the men good and riled, then has one drag Goodsir out of his tent, ostensibly to answer for this. but, perhaps, it quickly devolves into something worse?

**scurvytrain** : Hickey would co-opt Goodsir’s function as balm. Hickey in that tent, after seeing Hodgson and the gentle way Hickey disengaged

**terrabite** : On some level Hickey understands the men are stressed and afraid and uneasy about what they’ve done, this gives them a release valve. Maybe Hickey doesn’t even engage in the first round. just sits on the shale, in Goodsir’s line of sight. watches his face, holds eye contact whenever Goodsir opens his eyes)

Thinking whatever happens when they drag him out, it starts as a simple dogpile, men kicking and punching, but in the frenzy, one guy crosses the line, pulling down his trousers, and it escalates from there. Hickey withdraws at that point, simply watching.

**scurvytrain** : After Hodgson shoves him, later, Hickey idly wondering around the fire, when they’re particularly hungry, and particularly cold, if Goodsir is still in contact with her. His fondness for the girl was clear back on the ship, all during camp -- Hickey saw the doctor pull her from the food line. Why is that? Hickey musing out loud, directionless. 

Off hand to Des Voeux. It’s something easily believed — he saw them too, saw how close they were, the closeness exaggerated by memory and hunger and fear. Des Vouex finishes the unspoken thought: maybe Goodsir is working with them to pick them off.

**scurvytrain** : And Des Voeux getting more and more angry. Coming into Goodsir’s tent. Goodsir half out of his clothes, having bathed with a damp cloth. When he’s tossed outside,

he’s shirtless and shivering. Des Voeux prodding about the eski girl. What is she offering to have him turn on his fellows? His brothers? The kind of questioning that comes at the end of a kick, or slap upside the head.

Goodsir trying to get his bearings through the cold and the pain, disorientated entirely. Half delirious from the suddenness, the lack of context and the confusion and the pain, hears Des Voeux ask about the girl and panics —“is she here? Don’t hurt her, don’t—” and Hickey’s mild tsk to himself, like Goodsir made a foul in a game amongst friends. 

**terrabite** : Hickey pulling together the threads about Goodsir’s ONLY concern being for Silna, Hickey using the threat of Eskimo retaliation to consolidate his power (also Goodsir being somewhat out of it anyway, not following as quickly as he should thanks to the lead poisoning) Goodsir blundering into exactly the reaction Hickey hopes to elicit from him.

**scurvytrain** : Goodsir would hear her name or people speaking of her. And he’d lose it. The way he promised to keep her safe knowing he couldn’t. The knowledge that these men have had it out for her even with full bellies and a warm hearth. I appreciate the show not going there, but 100000% Goodsir has overheard how they spoke of her. It was a fear he carried with him even as he would tell himself that English men 

Sometimes Goodsir would close his eyes, in the tent Hickey would let him keep to himself if he promised to treat the ment. He’d close his eyes under the thin blankets and think of his visits to Silna, the quiet, productive, pleasant nights they shared. Her voice a steadying, calming presence in his memory. When he remembered being warm, he remembered that little space in the hold with her.

Des Vouex remembering seeing Goodsir’s first real flash of anger, when they were still on the ship and the food tasted good, when he asked if eski cunt tastes any better than homegrown. 

It doesn’t manifest in a punch thrown, or even yelling. Just the quickness that Goodsir gets to his feet. Leveling his height to Des Voeux. They aren’t much different in height but Des Voeux was leaning in on the table, so he has to look up when Goodsir stands. The utter flat disdain in Goodsir’s gaze, the very sure way he tells Des Voeux that when they make their trek across the ice, and make no mistake, they will, the ice has not thawed in three years, what makes Des Voeux think their luck will change? Tell Goodsir about his thoughts on Lady Silence then, when they will need her help, more than Des Voeux will need his pride. 

Later, in Hickey’s camp, Des Voeux bringing that back in his own way, knocking Goodsir to the ground. His own head spinning with hunger and the cold and memory of being warm, of listening to the low drone of Goodsir talking to the silent Eski. Can see her flat, hostile gaze through the slit in the door, hurried past with Goodsir’s arm around her shoulder, through the folds of her heavy, seal skin jacket. 

Goodsir on the ground, shirtless and shivering. He’s making little hurt sounds that Des Voeux wants more of because he can’t get anything else – can’t get more warm, can’t get more food, can’t get more days of not feeling hollowed out and irreversibly gone. Leaning down to bring Goodsir to his knees, face upturned, the blood coming out of his nose now in slow, lazy rivulets that steam as they make contact with the air. 

When Des Voeux punches him again, Goodsir’s weight catches on the back of his heels, he can’t seem to fall over even if he wanted to, and Des Voeux has both hands free since the moment he pulled Goodsir out of his tent. Can’t stop seeing how warm Goodsir’s blood looks, how warm his mouth must feel. 

Des Voeux seeing Goodsir there, resting on his heels, looking the way he does, muttering about Silna--

Des Voeux deciding, and telling the other men, why not have Goodsir show what Lady Silence taught him. Unbuttoning his trousers and holding Goodsir’s head back with his hair, muttering to himself, wants to feel what it’s like to fuck an eski girl, c'mon, Goodsir, show him what it’s like.

Hickey just letting the rest of it unfold in front of the fir. Doesn’t participate, but the others eventually do. Half in a daze and mostly searching for the ability to feel power over something, anything, out here in the ice, their fates no longer in their own grasp.

Hodgson spends most of the evening in his tent, curled under a thin blanket, pretending not to hear. Tozer can’t quite finish with Goodsir’s mouth alone, let’s the rest of the men have their turn. After, at Hickey’s direction, Tozer depositing Goodsir back in his tent, taking in the quiet ruin of his face, and turning him careful on his stomach and using the meat of Goodsir’s thighs to finish what he’d started.

Later, Hickey coming by, Goodsir hasn’t moved from where Tozer left him. The careful way Hickey situates himself by the cot. The warm, wet cloth. Hickey cleaning Goodsir slowly, methodically.

Goodsir’s blank, glassy gaze.

Like he’s cutting Goodsir a break, not hauling. Showing him mercy. Also tending to Goodsir the way— Goodsir did check on Hickey’s wounds, when he was punished. Like Hickey is returning the favor. 

Hickey starting to wash Goodsir down but getting to the swell of his buttocks, the careful way he dips his fingers in the mess of blood and spunk and then sinks them inside and hears the low, pained moan it punches out of Goodsir, Hickey finally getting a reaction out of him. 

The tent is warm and clean, as Goodsir keeps it, and Hickey, befitting a captain also 100% settles on the back of Goodsir’s thighs and fucks into the wet slick of Goodsir’s ass. and when he finishes, he cleans himself off, gets himself dressed, wipes back Goodsir’s matted, sweaty hair, and tells him it’s okay, he doesn’t have to haul tomorrow. not after the day he’s had. 


End file.
